The Serpent that was born in Paradise,
God knows, rejoiced when the gift of grace was given
You, the most passionately perfect of the seven
Fallen angels; for your desecrated eyes
Are haunted by the beryl's mysteries.
I know that Satan claimed you from the riven
Ranks of the Virgins that deserted heaven.
God has no part in you, not in any wise.
Yea, why should God, seeing that you are loft,
Not by the scented devils of your pride?
Now at the mercy of the Teraphims
You are hurled onward by the wandering host
Of winds that in the Midnight's heart abide
Naked between the Dragon's writhing limbs.
